


touch me

by orphan_account



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Choking, Daddy Kink, Hair-pulling, M/M, This is just smut, bottom!slash, i can't see slash as a top tbh, slash in heels, those silver star earrings. that's it. that's the tweet., top!axl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 20:03:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20972282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Yes, baby? Want something?” Axl teases.“Want you in me,” is Slash’s reply and fuck if that doesn’t turn Axl on even more.





	touch me

**Author's Note:**

> (or- axl really wants to fuck slash and hey turns out slash wants that, too) 
> 
> this was LITERALLY just an excuse for me to write top!axl/bottom!slash ;) 
> 
> I HOPE THIS DOESNT SUCK LMFAO i don't ever write smut but i tried my best!

Slash is trying to kill him, Axl thinks.

No, he _knows _it. Because now Slash is leaning back against the wall with a leg angled behind him and his blue jeans are slipping even lower on his hips, and silver star-shaped earrings are peeking out from behind his wild mane of glossy curls.

Slash is definitely trying to kill him. Or give him a hard-on during the middle of their goddamn photoshoot.

Axl knows he’s staring, too, and maybe it’s a little too much, too noticeable. Because now that cigarette is resting between Slash’s full lips and he’s giving the camera fucking _bedroom-eyes_,and he throws a coy little smile Axl's way _and_—

Axl’s breath hitches as Slash tangles both his hands in his hair, shirt riding up and up and _up_, bracelets falling down his arms.

It suddenly feels too hot outside and that same heat is rushing straight to Axl’s cheeks, burning like a wildfire as his eyes linger on the waistband of Slash’s ripped jeans. He needs a drink.

He also needs this photoshoot to be done soon because Slash looks too damn good in that outfit and it’s killing him. He hopes no one else notices, because how the hell would he explain the blush on his cheeks?

The sun soon sets, low in the sky, bathing the Hollywood hills in a warm, hazy golden glow and Axl thanks god or whoever the fuck else that this stupid fucking photoshoot is finally over. Because Slash had tied the front of his shirt into a knot and it was barely buttoned, too, and his eyeliner had smudged a bit and it’s driving Axl crazy (surprise, surprise). 

He finds himself sitting at a table in the nearest bar, lights dim and drinks flowing endlessly. Slash is to his immediate right, Steven somewhere behind him, Duff and Izzy are on his left, and he swallows what’s left of the liquid in his glass.

“Axl,” Slash whispers, and it’s all breathy, fingertips trailing along Axl’s forearm and half-lidded brown eyes. Axl’s breath catches in his throat for what feels like the millionth time tonight—And it’s all because Slash looks like an _angel_ under the low lighting, amber reflects bouncing off the silver earrings tangled amongst his hair. The light’s hitting all the right places on his face. 

Axl picks up one of the many shot glasses laid out on the tabletop in front of him. “Yeah, Slasher?”

Slash licks his lips then, slow and deliberate and, damn it, Axl’s staring too hard again. His voice is barely above a whisper and suddenly his lips are right there next to Axl’s ear. “Can you take me home?”

Exhaling, Axl feels lightheaded all of a sudden.

“Take me home and fuck me?” Slash is begging, that pretty little voice of his full of nothing but pure sin. “Please, I need you to fuck me—”

Axl nearly knocks the damn table over as he stands up, grabbing Slash by the arm and not letting go, pulling him out of the bar. He’s sure his bandmates must be confused as all hell at this point, but never mind that. He’s got, uh, more important matters to take care of. “Thought you’d never ask.”

They stumble down the sidewalks, both a little buzzed and a lot giggly. They trip over their own feet and Los Angeles suddenly feels a lot smaller, like it’s just the two of them and no one else.

Axl ignores the few catcalls directed their way, hard as that is for him to do—but he’s not in the mood for a fight tonight, not when he’s got Slash’s words running through his mind on an endless loop.

_Take me home and fuck me? _

Yeah, Axl’s gonna do just that. And he’s gonna enjoy every damn minute of it because he’s been wanting this for far too long.

“You look so pretty,” Axl mumbles, pressing Slash up against the plain white walls of their shitty little apartment once they finally make it home, “So fucking pretty for me, baby. I love seeing you in those earrings…”

He lets his sentence trail off as he runs the edge of his thumb across the cool metal of Slash’s earrings. Slash smirks, and the sight of that alone is enough to send chills racing up and down Axl’s spine. “Yeah. I know, that’s why I wore ‘em.”

_Fucking tease. _Probably why he tied his shirt like that, too.

“Keep them on,” Axl’s voice is rough, gravelly and it fills the entire apartment. He presses his lips to Slash’s neck, sucking an ugly red bruise into his soft skin. A quiet moan escapes Slash’s lips and Axl can feel a surge of heat pooling in his lower stomach.

He’s got Slash pinned in place against the wall now, and his hips dig into the guitarist’s, one arm hooked around Slash’s neck and a hand lost in his curls. He kisses him hard, pulls his hair hard, and their kiss is all teeth and tongue. He can taste the cheap alcohol on Slash’s breath.

Their lips part with a wet click and only two short seconds pass before Slash is begging, “Axl, fuck me, please fuck me…”

Trailing a hand along Slash’s cheekbone, Axl’s eyes flicker up. “I’ll fuck you, sweetheart, don’t worry. I just… can you do something for me first, Slasher?”

“Anything.”

Axl’s suddenly glad that it’s so dark in their apartment because he’s pretty damn sure his cheeks are tinted pink when he asks, “There’s a pair of heels in my closet, can you, uh—”

“Put them on for you?” Slash finishes. “You want me to wear them, Ax?”

That little bit of eyeliner is still smudged underneath his lower lash line and _god_. Axl’s voice doesn’t even sound like his own when he answers. “Yes, babe, fuck. _Please._ Wanna see you all dolled up for me, kitten. They’d look so pretty with your earrings.”

The pair of heels he’s referring to are red, _firetruck red_, and the thought of Slash wearing them while Axl fucks him into next week is… hot. To say the least. So Axl wastes no time; He drags Slash to his bedroom and unceremoniously pushes him down on his unmade bed before fishing the pair of heels out from deep inside his closet.

“Here,” Axl mumbles. He messes with the button on Slash’s ripped up blue jeans, dragging the zipper down and then watches lustfully as Slash shimmies out of them.

Fuck, he’s a stunner.

Axl has to stop himself from physically _drooling _at the sight of Slash in those red strappy heels, naked from the waist down with his curls partly obscuring his features.

Smirking something devilish, Axl moves to sit on Slash’s lap and it causes him to let out a tiny moan. Full lips fall open and before Slash even has the chance to say anything, Axl’s kissing him again.

He stops only when he feels Slash pulling on his hair, hips shifting.

“Yes, baby? Want something?” Axl teases. 

“Want you in me,” is Slash’s reply and _fuck _if that doesn’t turn Axl on even more. He uses his knee to spread Slash’s legs, then reaches for the lube he keeps handy under his bed. 

As he lifts Slash’s legs, he leans in to kiss him yet again. It’s a quick kiss, rough. The bottle opens with a loud pop and Axl coats two fingers with the cold jelly, Slash still a moaning mess under him.

He slowly pushes both his fingers into Slash, _slowly _and he studies Slash’s expressions as he does: his dark eyes are shut, lips parted, eyebrows pulled together in pleasure. When he adds another finger, Slash’s hand flies up to his mouth to muffle an involuntary groan.

“No, sweetheart, I wanna hear you,” Axl grips his wrist, moving his hand away and holding it above his head as he continues to push his fingers in even deeper. He can look at Slash all day long and never get tired, he thinks… Especially when Slash is panting like that, cheeks flushed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth, looking like something straight out of a fucking _wet dream_.

(Not that Axl would know anything about that. Definitely not.)

Axl takes his sweet time fucking Slash with his fingers, spreading him, working him open at an agonizingly slow pace simply because he loves seeing Slash _come apart _like this—And it’s for him. All for him. Slash grabs fistfuls of the bedsheets and Axl dips his head to kiss Slash’s neck, leaving behind another lip-shaped bruise.

When he pulls his fingers out, Slash whines. His lips are curved into a frown as he protests, “Axl…”

Axl reaches over for the lube again, tugging his own pants down and then flicking the bottle back open so he can squeeze some into the palm of his hand. He strokes himself until he’s slick, his green eyes not leaving Slash once as he does. Everything about this is like a jolt of electricity.

So he grips Slash’s thighs, fingers indenting his skin as he pushes into him.

Slash arches his back to the point of it looking _painful _and then lets out a low groan through his teeth. Axl briefly catches himself wondering if they bothered to lock the door behind them.

Whatever. Fuck that, it doesn’t matter. Not when Slash is all spread out on the mattress underneath him like this.

“Fuck,” Slash gasps. Axl shifts his hips.

He can feel Slash’s hands trailing down his back, fingernails drawing dull red lines on his skin as he quickens his pace. His mind’s gone all hazy by now; his thoughts are clouded by pleasure, by enjoyment, by how good Slash feels around him and all those little noises spilling from his mouth like honey, and—_holy_ _fuck_.

Brushing a few curls from Slash’s face, Axl whispers, “So tight, baby. You feel fucking incredible…”

Slash’s legs shake noticeably on either side of him, the high heels he’s wearing brushing against his back, threatening to break his skin, and the sound of the headboard slamming against the wall fills the tiny bedroom.

“Oh god—Shit!” Slash cries out as Axl tugs on his hair, hard enough to hurt. He silently debates whether he’s being a little too rough until Slash moans, voice dripping with lust, “Keep doing that, fuck…”

A smirk creeps its way onto Axl’s lips… Hair pulling, huh?

“Fuck, daddy…”

_And _a daddy kink? He can definitely get used to this.

He grabs Slash’s legs, pushing them up so that Slash is bent in half practically, then fucks him even deeper, even harder. The moonlight spilling in from the window beside the bed glints silver on his earrings.

Axl leans down to cover Slash’s lips with his own. Slash cups a shaky hand around Axl’s cheeks, his fingers combing through silky red strands. And when Axl pulls away, he’s whispering, “You’re being such a good boy for daddy right now,” in Slash’s ear right before playfully nipping at his earlobe.

The grip he’s got on Slash’s hair only tightens as he continues to thrust into him, his rhythm unintentionally uneven.

Without thinking, he brings a hand up and wraps it around Slash’s throat. Nothing too hard, just a bit of pressure, and… The string of swears that leave Slash’s lips is a pretty good indicator that he’s as _into this _as Axl is, so he doesn’t stop.

Choking too? God damn. He’s hit the fucking jackpot, he thinks.

Slash’s stomach muscles flutter as he clutches Axl’s hips. Axl can’t help but trail his eyes down Slash’s body, slick with sweat, and then uses his other hand to languidly stroke Slash’s cock. He can tell Slash is getting close—and so is he, and he wants nothing more than to bring Slash over the edge with him.

It doesn’t take much, just a few more slow thrusts of his hips and Axl purring, “come for daddy, sweetheart.”

Slash’s body tenses, dark eyes squeezed shut as he chants Axl’s name over and over like a prayer. 

Seeing Slash looking all pretty and ruined is enough for Axl; He throws his head back with a groan as he releases inside Slash, lower lip trembling, seeing silver star-shaped earrings behind his eyelids.

The air is sticky, the only sound in the room their strained breathing. It’s hot; their apartment doesn’t have air conditioning (of course it doesn’t). Axl pulls out, feeling a little dazed and disoriented, then presses a sloppy kiss to Slash’s cheek before collapsing on the bed next to him.

Although it’s dark, Axl can still make out the content smile on Slash’s lips. He sweeps away a few curls that are matted to his forehead as he pulls Slash even closer to him. Slash kicks his high heels off and they hit the floor with a muffled bang.

When Axl turns to look at Slash again, he’s already fast asleep.

The moonlight glints silver on his earrings.

**Author's Note:**

> thx for reading 
> 
> hmu on tumblr if you want! @malibubarbievince


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